Death
by Accio-Underwear
Summary: ONESHOT Well I didn’t like the process of dying, that was a bit annoying and usually unimaginably painful but I liked Death.


_Disclaimer – I do not own South Park_

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I woke up concerned.

It wasn't something that I usually woke up feeling. Usually I woke up either aroused from a hot dream, happy because I got a good night's sleep, hungry, or with the feeling of 'oh shit, I really gotta take a piss'. But no, today I woke up concerned.

The reason why was rather odd too. People would say 'Shouldn't you be happy? Shouldn't you be delighted? This is, after all, the longest you've been with us, Kenny.' But I remain concerned that I haven't died in over a month. Death had always been a part of my life. From the moment I died right after birth because the doctor dropped me on my head to lighting myself on fire to my heart simply stopping, I had always had a visit with Death before returning to my confusing place in the realm of the living, waiting for the next moment where bad luck would hit me again.

Was something wrong with me?

You might wonder that there was something wrong with me. It is, of course, completely unnatural for a boy of seventeen to die thousands of times and simply come back from the dead, or even be birthed by the same number at least a hundred times and experience an accelerated aging process. But it was something I was accustomed to. It was a part of me and I was able to use it for good now and then when the people I cared about were in danger.

Actually…I liked Death.

Well I didn't like the process of dying, that was a bit annoying and usually unimaginably painful but I liked Death.

He was pretty cool.

Yes, as a hooded skeleton that could reap your soul by a single touch, he was a bit scary, but he liked Terrance and Phillip and wrestling and he was a great conversationalist. When he'd pick me up, we'd usually hang out a bit and do simple thing like get a bite to eat or catch a movie, sometimes even go Go Kart racing and then he'd send me on my way to Hell or even let me skip that part and allow me to get on with my life.

And the funny thing about Death is that he isn't always in the same form.

I mean, yeah, people die in different ways but he can look like some regular guy, he can look like some chick, he can look like me and he can look like my friends. He takes whatever form he feels comfortable that day.

Usually with me, he's this six foot three older guy with sandy blonde hair, blue eyes that crinkled in the corners when he grinned, and he grinned a lot, and he usually wore jeans and a shirt and jacket.

I liked to pretend he was telling me what I was going to look like when I grew up because he'd already shown me what my friends and stuff would look like.

Stan looks like his Dad without the porn star 'stache, Kyle is actually pretty cute, and Cartman's future self keeps varying. It's pretty weird.

But it had been over a month since I saw Death and I was getting a bit concerned. At first I thought something maybe happened but that theory was quickly rid of when I watched a bird explode and die after eating rice.

So maybe I did something wrong or this….curse as most would call it, is over and I just can't die or it would be for good.

I didn't really want to test that theory out.

Rolling out of bed, I pulled on jeans over my boxers and a hoodie over my bare upper body before scooting out of my room, barefoot. No matter how behind we were on the heating bill, our fuzzy carpets were always warm. And I was out of clean, unholy socks so I'd have to steal some from one of my siblings later.

Passing a clock I noted that it was eleven in the morning and I stopped.

Wasn't today Tuesday?

Usually Mom woke me, Karen and Kevin up for school.

The house was quiet meaning that my siblings were not home. Dad was probably out fishing or hanging with the guys or whatever the hell he does that doesn't involve earning a paycheck and Mom…well that was bugging me too.

Even before not waking me up this morning, she'd been acting weird as of late.

At least around me anyway.

She'd always give me these looks. I'm not really sure how I could describe them other than slightly pained. It worried me because I didn't want my mom looking at me like that. Or holding that expression at all.

I made my way down the hall and peeked in the kitchen.

She was home, sitting at the dining table with her back facing me and her head was hung over what was probably a mug of hot water. I took a quiet step into the kitchen and decided to press my luck and try not to get into trouble.

After all, there was the possibility that I slept through her wake up call.

"Mom?" I asked, keeping myself quiet and even, "Are you okay?"

She straightened up with a soft surprised gasp and turned to look at me with a forced smile and puffy red eyes, "Morning, baby." She greeted, "You sleep alright?"

"Yeah….fine…" I took another few steps into the kitchen, "Mom, are you…." I trailed off, though I was sure that my discomfort upon discovering my mother with after crying eyes was obvious.

She hastily wiped at her eyes, "Actually, I wanna talk to you, Kenny." She asked, her tone shakier than normal.

I was quiet for a moment, contemplating the possibility of something happening to a family member or that I did something wrong. "Is this why I'm not at school?" I asked.

She nodded. "Sit down." I took a seat across from her and tried not to look at her saddened face while my mind reeled with possibilities. "I need to talk to you. About your father."

"Did something happen to Dad?!" I blurted.

It didn't make sense though. If something happened to Dad then why weren't Kevin and Karen here too? Why just me?

"H-He's fine. He's okay but…"

"But?"

Mom laced her fingers together and furrowed her brow in deep thought. "Kenny….you have blonde hair." She started. I thought that was fairly obvious and I didn't see how it could connect with Dad, "I have red hair. Stuart has light brown hair and your siblings have brown hair."

"Yeah? So?"

"Don't you think it's weird that you're the only child with blonde hair?" She asked.

"Well, there's this whole recessive gene thing I learned about in school," I replied, ready to explain in order to show my Mother that I was indeed learning at school and that my grades weren't from laziness. Kevin and I always jumped at the chance to prove that.

"Stuart McCormick isn't your real father Kenny."

I stared at my Mom like she'd grown a second head. She might've well have seeing as she just dropped the bombshell of the century. I mean…that's just…they loved each other. Right? Yeah…my parents were totally in love when they were sober.

"You're fucking with me."

"I'm not."

I stood up. I could feel my blood boiling. This was just a joke. This was just a horrible and cruel joke that the town liked to play on its kids for kicks and stupid reasons. Just look at Cartman. They hid the truth of his real parent to protect a fucking football team.

But her expression was telling me otherwise.

My Mom wouldn't cry if it was a joke.

"I swear to fucking God if I'm fucking related to Cartman…" I could feel tears welling up in my own eyes. This was just too much. She'd just turned everything I knew and trusted upside down with the utterance of one sentence.

"You're not." She assured.

"Then who?" I demanded, standing up and leaning against the table for balance. I was lightheaded and dizzy, this was just too much.

She was quiet.

"WHO?" I slammed my hands on the table, causing it to jump and she squeaked and cried.

"Death, Kenny, your real father is Death!"

My legs went weak and I collapsed in my chair. It all made sense. The anger flooded out of me and all I could feel was numbness. I glanced at my Mom and she was crying and gripping her mug.

I tried to speak but it was hard to get the words out, "Why….Why did you cheat on Dad? And….And how?" It shouldn't have been possible. I mean, I thought it was that if you touch Death, you die. "You're supposed to cheat Death, not cheat with him."

She sniffled at how pained I sounded and wiped her eyes with a cheap paper towel. "It was when Stuart was a trucker. Short after I had Kevin," She explained shakily, "I was lonely and tired; it was hard raising a baby on my own and when I found out that Stuart wasn't going to be coming for July fourth, I got upset. I took all the money I had set aside for a romantic evening, hired a babysitter and when out with the girls. We went to a bar in Denver where I met the most charming man. He had eyes as blue as the sky and a smile that made me warm. And he listened to me. He was so smart." I felt sick as my Mom gushed about someone who wasn't her husband. "I had one too many drinks, I had taken my ring off I was so mad at Stuart so he had no idea I was married and well…he's Death, Kenny, he knows who will die and who won't and it wasn't my time. His touch wouldn't kill me…but it did show me the greatest org-"

I cleared my throat, my face feeling very hot and her cheeks flared up to a shade darker than her hair.

I really didn't need that in my head.

"Does Dad know?"

"He started putting things together after the fifty-second time I gave birth to you." She replied.

I thought about that. I was about eight when she had me fifty-two times and nine years later, Stuart McCormick showed no different treatment of me. I was still a son to him. He still showed pride when I did good, he still punished me when I did bad, he took me fishing and shooting with him and gave me 'the talk' when he discovered my Playboys and listened to me when I needed to rant. We had an album of pictures together. He treated me no differently than his biological children.

It made me love the guy more.

"Does….Death know?" I asked hesitantly. It was a ridiculous question, it was probably obvious he knew but it made me wonder.

Did he have other kids?

Did I have siblings that had the same condition?

"He's always known." Mom replied quietly. "I tried to kill you."

Ow.

"You…"

"I threw myself down a flight of stairs."

"Oh."

A sob wracked my Mother's petite form and I instantly felt bad. Yes, she had tried to kill me as a fetus but she was scared. And she'd done more to make it up to me. She loved me so much and whenever I had a dream, she was the one to push me to follow it. She even took me to Europe to become a great opera star.

Without a word, I got up and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. She leaned against me, wrapping her arms around my waist and continued to cry. I let her get it all out, patiently waiting and petting her hair soothingly as she stained my hoodie with her tears and repeated murmured 'I love you, Kenny. I love you, Baby. I'm sorry. I love you.' And I assured her that it was alright and that I loved her and nothing would ever change that.

Eventually she got herself back together and I sat down in the chair next to her, allowing her to continue clinging to my hand so I wouldn't run away from her or whatever else she felt I would do as a result of this conversation.

"Is that why I haven't died?" I asked curiously, watching as she rubbed her thumb across the back of my hand.

"He felt he should back off until I was able to tell you." She replied hoarsely.

"Why did you wait so long." I glanced up at her patiently. In all my seventeen years, they had plenty of chances to tell me. But as I thought about it, I realized that there were so many hints that were dropped, but I never got them.

Death was trying to be a good Dad to me, whether I knew it or not. I'd talked to him about so much, about my innermost thoughts that I had never considered telling my Dad Dad about and…I felt a bit hurt.

I felt like that trust was betrayed.

But I felt a little relieved too.

It was strange to say the least.

"We were waiting until we thought you could handle it," Mom replied, "And…well he wanted to see if you would be afraid of him or not. He really does love you."

"I need to talk to him." I declared, standing up.

"Baby, you need to wait until he comes for you," Mom replied, holding onto my hand.

I gently detached my limb from her grasp. I had too many questions and I couldn't simply wait. It wasn't fair to me to wait. I kissed her cheek and smiled, "I'll be back soon, Mom." I then grabbed the toaster and ran into the bathroom with my Mom hot on my heels, locking the door before she could come in.

"Kenny!" She screamed, banging on the door, "Open this door right now, young man!"

"Sorry, Mom," I called back while plugging the toaster into the outlet near the wall and starting the shower, "I'll get a new toaster when I get back!"

She screamed again as I stepped in the shower with the toaster in hand and activated it, almost immediately feeling the painful lick of energy.

Time slowed down and I stepped out of my body and watched it convulse with the electricity. A fire sprouted on my hoodie and my Mom finally kicked the door open, rushing to my body's aid as I was roughly yanked through the wall and out into the cool South Park air. I didn't get a chance to admire the beautiful day because I was immediately spun around by the shoulders and forced to face a skeletal figure whose empty eye sockets hid images that chilled my soul completely.

"Dad." I greeted coolly.

Death's body morphed. Flesh bubbled onto his face and skeletal hands like boiling water and the sandy haired, blue eyed middle aged man I was so familiar with stared at me with a stern intensity and his grip on my shoulders tightened.

"What you just did to your Mother wasn't fair." He stated in a deep scolding voice.

Thinking back on it, I could see how my Mother could find him charming. Drunk or otherwise.

"I couldn't wait." I admitted. "I'll make it up to her."

"Damn right you will!"

I shrugged away from Death's grasp and glared, suddenly angry, "Where do you get off acting like you're my Dad?!" I snapped.

"Kenny, I _am_..."

"Fuck that, my Dad is Stuart McCormick." Death's face softened but I was still pretty pissed, "Yeah, you were there but you fucking _lied_ to me my whole life! I mean, really. Don't you think I would've figured it out eventually? I mean…" I rubbed my temples.

I was getting a headache.

"I know it's a tough thing to accept…"

"How the fuck would you know?" I replied bitterly, "You're Death."

"And being so, I've seen thousands upon thousands of incidents much like this one." Death replied. "And I admit this could've gone more smoothly but you have to understand that I tried and I…your parents and I…we were simply doing what we considered best."

I vaguely wondered if this was how adopted children felt when facing their biological parents. I mean, yeah this was a completely different situation, but it was the only scenario I could think of that was the closest to what I was experiencing.

"I…how does Death have a baby?" I asked.

I figured my Mom wouldn't know, I mean…it didn't seem like it was in her area of expertise. Yes, her body knew how to make a baby with what's given to her from the guy but how does it work when the guy is dead….or the personification of death.

Death ran a hand over his face warily and gestured me to walk with him, which is what I did. "Remember when I took you to the movies to see 'Lion King'?" He asked. I nodded, remembering how excited I was that I actually got to see the amazing movie all the other kids were talking about and that I clung to Death like any little kid to a parent or guardian in eagerness, "And remember when they talked about the Circle of Life." I nodded again. "That's basically it."

I stopped and stared at him. "What?"

"With life comes death and with death comes life." He replied.

This was confusing. "So…you're just doing your part to keep the 'Circle of Life' going?" I asked.

"Think of it this way. I collect souls and guide them to Heaven and Hell. As you know, with more people this has become a large business and most are now transported by a plane of existence." I vaguely remembered one time where Death didn't come to collect my soul and I ended up in the airline of the afterworld. I sat next to some big guy who needed to seats and drooled on my shoulder while he slept. "Well because of this, I can't personally collect as many souls. I only collect those I really see as worthy enough to personally being guided into the afterlife." I blushed at this since I was always personally escorted except for that one time. "And so I started charging a fee."

"A fee?" I asked curiously.

Death nodded, "A small piece of their soul. Usually the part that makes them special but not enough to completely destroy who they are."

"Ah."

"Over time I have enough to forge a new soul, which can't really do anything without a body."

"So you had a baby. Me."

Death nodded again, "Right."

I mulled this over. "So what's the likelihood of having siblings?" I asked curiously.

"Your soul alone took a thousand years to make."

"But….planes weren't around a thousand years ago."

"But I knew they would be." Death smirked and I was once again overcome with the feeling that I would look just like that when I grew up. "The Wright Brothers needed a little shove to get it going though."

My father was a devious bastard.

"So I'm your first and only?"

"And my favorite by far."

I couldn't help but grin at this. Yes, I loved Karen and Kevin but that I was the favorite and only child of someone…it was a good feeling. I didn't feel like I had to compete. Suddenly feeling awkward because I was such an ass, I scratched at the nape of my neck and peered at Death.

"So…uhm….is anything going to change between us or…"

Death looked equally uncomfortable, which is rather peculiar when you think about it but he too scratched at the nape of his neck and found the sky to be extraordinarily interesting, "It depends on you." He replied when he finally looked at me, "I mean, if you think this is too weird and you never want to see me again, I'll set you up to always get first class on the Plane…"

"No, no," I replied, "I….I think I want to try this whole….surprise second Dad thing."

Death relaxed and smiled at me before ruffling my hair, "'Atta boy." He chuckled. "Welcoming the unknown with open arms."

"Oh, how I wonder where I get it from." I replied.

Death laughed, "C'mon, I might as well feed you before returning you to your Mom." He stated, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and leading me towards the pancake house.

It was weird.

I had sprouted another father in a matter of hours but the funny thing was…he was there all along. It wasn't going to change my relationship with my Dad at all. I mean, I love my Dad but it was nice to know there was someone else caring about me in the world. I didn't always feel like I was cared about.

Sure, I was going to die all the time but I didn't mind. That was just my visitation with my Father. He understood me. He knew the feeling of being forgotten or invisible to the world and he always knew what to say or where I would enjoy going to. Yeah, I'm going to have to set up times with him on when I'm available to die so I didn't miss any more tests. Hell, I wasn't sure if he could even control that but I never looked more forward to dying than I did now.

I suddenly wasn't concerned.


End file.
